


He Saved Me

by DarkenedHeart



Series: Clucky [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Bucky keeps thinking he's going to leave, Caretaker!Clint, Clint is understanding, Flashback Story, Gen, I'm a writer not a doctor, Loss, OOC, Sadness, injured!bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:39:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9461408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkenedHeart/pseuds/DarkenedHeart
Summary: Originally posted as Chapter 5 in "Property of Bucky Barnes" - This is my poor attempt to explore the vague hints I gave in "Secretive Secrets" when Clint brought Bucky to the barn to save him...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Secretive Secrets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8138953) by [DarkenedHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkenedHeart/pseuds/DarkenedHeart). 



He struggled to walk, to breathe, to think. Every part of him hurt, including his metal arm which didn't make any sense. He was still bleeding. He could feel fresh liquid slowly seeping through his fingers that he tries to hold at the wound. The attack, his escape, his journey to wherever he was- it was all a blur of pain as he tried to focus on one foot in front of the other. He didn't know where he was going or what he was planning to do when he got there. He only knew one thing: move. Don't stay in one spot because it was dangerous. There were people after him. He had to keep going.

The ground quickly became his sky as he fell to his face. The world spun in his vision and his bloodied hand fell from his side without his permission. Would he be discovered if he closed his eyes? Would he open them again? What would he see when he did? Bucky didn't want to think about it, but it was the only thing his mind would allow as his lids became heavier and the world slowly disappeared into darkness.

When Bucky woke again, he felt better. He frowned, knowing that shouldn't be the case, especially not that fast. He tests out his body before opening his eyes. He's not bound in any way, but there's something taped to his wrist and something wrapped tightly around his middle. He thinks he might be shirtless but his skin is too hot to tell. Bucky opens his eyes and a faint light swirls in his vision. A world of wooden walls, hay covered floors, and random machines comes into focus. He surmises he's in a barn, but he has no idea who's or how he got there. He looks down his shirtless self to see a bandage wrapped around his injury. There's an IV in the back of his hand, the tape wrapping slightly around his wrist. Someone had found him, brought him here, given him medical aid, and left him alone? What idiot would do that?

"Ah! You're awake!" a male voice chirps.

Bucky turns towards it warily, noting the untucked flannel shirt, the dirty and torn jeans. It's when he sees the man's eyes that he recognizes something more deadly and he stiffens when the stranger approaches.

"I'm Clint," the man introduces himself without prompting, carrying over a tray of food Bucky had ignored when he initially stepped into the space. "That was my back yard you decided to pass out in, so I brought you a little closer to home. I hope you like chicken noodle soup. It's all that I've got for you."

The tray is put down beside the super soldier. There's a bowl of soup, a sleeve of crackers, and a cup of water resting on a napkin. Bucky ignores it as he reaches over to remove the IV.

"Woah there, Mr. Silence," Clint rests his hand on top of the other man. Bucky's muscles spasm under the skin as he holds back the urge to twist the other man's hand away. "You can't take that off yet. You're dehydrated and lost a lot of blood. Now, I can't give you the latter, but this should fix the former. And I'd recommend eating too, if you want enough strength to run outta here."

The hand moves away as the stranger looks at his guest expectantly. Bucky lowers his hand and reaches for the water.

"Awesome!" Clint grins with teeth. "If you eat all that, I can sneak in a few cookies, but don't take too long. They never last more than a few hours."

"Why?" Bucky growls out as the man stands to leave. He assumes the other man can figure out the rest of the question.

"Because they're delicious!" the man announces, putting his hands on his hips as he proves the super soldier wrong. "It ain't Martha Stuart maybe, but I think that's because they're better. I'd do that whole toss down with a professional chef, but they already had a cookie episode. I hate repeats, don't you?"

Bucky sips the water in lieu of answering. It doesn't taste strange, but he still puts it down to test out the soup next.

"I know you won't take my word for it, but they're not poisoned or drugged," his host informs him as he heads to the door. He pauses at it, one hand on the handle as he looks back to the man on the floor. "One other thing, stranger," he says with more severity than he did before. "If you run, run away from the house."

Then Clint is out the door, leaving Bucky to wonder where he was and who he had met.

\- -

Bucky pushes the empty tray away as he readies himself to stand. His metal arm grips a wooden beam firmly, but as he pulls himself up his legs prove to be too weak and he falters back down to the ground. Clint arrives after the second attempt with a plate full of chocolate chip cookies and a tall glass of milk.

"You trying to leave before dessert?" the man asks, sounding slightly offended. "Come on! I need someone else to tell me how great my circles of love are before you go at least. That way I can feel like my confidence in them is well founded."

The super soldier glares up at his host as he approaches. He waits until the other man puts the food on the tray before he attacks. One hand goes for Clint's arm, but the brunette dodges, eyes still on adjusting the cookies as he kicks out a leg to stop Bucky's counter move. Clint turns sharp eyes to Bucky as he lifts his metal arm and something in it makes the super soldier pause.

"I know what you are," Clint says slowly, eyes dead center on the super soldier. "I'm not going to call the police. I'm not calling anyone. I once did what you did, so I get it."

Bucky's arm finally decides to follow what his mind orders and he grabs the other man by the collar of his shirt.

"I don't care what you think you know," Bucky growls. "I'm getting out of here."

"With that injury, you'll pass out before you make it down the driveway," Clint deadpans. "You can leave, of course. I'm not going to stop you. It might just interest you to know that this is the safest place you could be right now."

"How is that?"

"Because very few people know this place exists."

Bucky leans forwards, his grip tightening as he tries to get a read on the other man.

"Why is that, Clint?"

"Because I killed people too and I don't want others coming after me," the man's face darkens. "I could have killed you ten times over since you woke up alone. You're injured, disoriented and have no idea where you are. This is my home turf, so you can either trust me enough to stay or be stupid enough to leave. Your choice."

Bucky leans back, letting go of the other man as he does so.

"I'm also not stupid," Clint adds. "These are the only rules I'll give you: You only interact with me while you're here and no one gets hurt. Think you can handle that?"

Bucky nods, still unsure of his host but unable to ignore how weak his body still was. He'd need a whole day of rest if he wanted to make a proper escape. He'd sneak out after dark as soon as his legs would hold him. Or sooner if it turned out this 'Clint' guy turned out to work for HYDRA.

"Good," Clint's serious expression changes into a friendly smile. "Sorry you have to use the bathroom in a barn, but the back stall already has a hole in it and there's running water in the hose, so at least it's better than the desert."

The brunette gets up and Bucky tries for his question again.

"Why?"

"Well, in a desert you-"

"Why are you helping me?" Bucky snaps. It doesn't phase the other man.

"Because I know you," his host confesses. "It's obvious that you don't remember, and that's fine, I have a forgettable face, but there were a few missions I was on that you had my back and I returned in kind." He smiles, which further confuses the super soldier. "If I had known you wanted to be friends, I would have set up a better play date. Maybe next time call ahead, okay?"

Clint leaves Bucky to run a hand through his hair as he desperately tries to reach into any part of his frazzled mind to place the other man's face.

\- -

It's dawn when Clint returns to the barn to find his guest in the exact same spot he left him.

"You feeling okay, Mr. Silence?" the brunette's brow furrows as he reaches out the back of his hand to the other's forehead. "Do you still have a temperature?"  
Bucky grabs hold of the other man's wrist as he glares at him.

"How can I hurt you with the back of my hand to your forehead?" his host asks with a roll of his eyes. He moves the other hand to finish the mission and Bucky surprises himself when he allows the light touch.

"No fever," Clint decides with a slight nod. He pulls both hands back. "I want to check your injury and take out the IV today. Is that okay with you?"

Bucky considers the man's motives for the umpteenth time as he nods his head. He clenches his metal hand tightly into a fist as the other man takes his human arm and expertly removes it, going slow so it barely hurt. After dropping the removed needle, Clint moves to the other side of the super soldier to inspect the wound. The brunette's face scrunches up in sympathy as he takes in the look of it. He shakes his head with a few tisks then stands.

"My stitching isn't as good as it should be, sorry," Clint apologizes. "I also forgot the medical supplies, but I'll be back quick. Just try to relax and not look at it."

Of course as soon as his host is gone, Bucky looks. The stitching is slightly crooked but infinitely better than anything Bucky could do with only one hand. It's the first time he's been able to see the severity of the wound since he got it. He uses his hand as a measure and frowns when he sees it's almost as long as his middle finger. When he presses on it, the pain is minor, so he assumes there were painkillers in the IV and that it wasn't too deep. There's no puss, so no infection. It's not even bleeding anymore, which is good, but he'll have to walk carefully for a few days as it heals if he doesn't want to pop a stitch.

True to his word, Clint returns quickly, a duffle bag with a sloppily painted red cross on the side slung over his shoulder.

"You get a lot of hurt people?" Bucky finds himself asking as the other man kneels beside him to tend to the wound.

Clint laughs, "You have a sense of humor! Great-I mean, good! That'll make this a lot easier on the both of us. I tend to run at the mouth a little more than I should." The brunette cleans the wound with disinfectant before wrapping it with new bandages. It's while he's wrapping that he answers the question, "It's actually me who tends to come stumbling into the house a little more beaten up than I'd like. I try not to do it too often, but some times it can't be helped."

"Who do you work for?" Bucky asks as the man finishes, taping the bandages in place.

"SHIELD," the man checks over his work then gives it an approving nod before locking eyes with the other man. "It stands for Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate, but it means I'm a good guy. I'm also an Avenger, if that'll help you place me."

"It's dangerous to tell the enemy who you are," the soldier warns the other man.

"Are you dangerous, Mr. Silence?"

"You said you knew what I did, so you should already know."

"Being a killer doesn't mean you're dangerous."

"That doesn't make any sense," Bucky is certain the other man is insane now. "If you hurt people, you're a monster. Plain and simple. That's how it is."

Something flitters across Clint's face, too fast for the super soldier to identify before the brunette covers it with a smirk.

"Monsters are people who get off on another person's pain." Clint tilts his head, considering the injured man. "I don't think that's the kind of guy you are, Mr. Silence."

"Why?" Bucky forces out.

"Because if that was the case, you never would have helped me."

The brunette cleans up the supplies and walks out of the barn, leaving the medical duffle behind.

Clint comes back with lunch and to check on Bucky's wounds, then again at dinner.

As the brunette reaches down to retrieve the empty tray, Bucky reaches out to wrap his human hand around the other man's wrist. The grip is loose, but firm and Clint turns an open expression of curiosity to the super soldier.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Bucky tells him. "Don't try to stop me."

"If you must," Clint says, then crouches down to be at eye level. "Or you could not."

The grip tightens as the soldier envisions all the ways to take the other man down.

"Hold it now, buddy," the brunette grins. "I meant that as an invitation, not a threat. Guys like us are always on the run. Well, not anymore for me. I found something to fight for, people to watch my back, so I only have to run when I'm out in the field."

Clint adjusts to sit on the ground instead, his wrist still held by the other man.

"You're healing faster than normal, but there's still a risk of relapse if you take off too soon. Sure, you can run off, dodging and weaving from whoever you were clearly running from. Or you can stay here, heal all the way, and I'll send you off properly."

"You don't know me," Bucky growls out, letting the other man go to press his back against the wall behind him. "If you did-"

"I wouldn't care," Clint interrupts him, looking off into space. "People make mistakes. That's life. It's what you do afterwards that matters."

The brunette gets up, brushing absently at his clothes before grabbing the tray and walking out.

Bucky stays up for hours, trying to place the man and figure him out...

Bucky startles awake from a nightmare, body drenched in sweat and shaking as he tries to place his surroundings. He belatedly notices the blanket he didn't have the night before entangled in his limbs and he quickly gets out of it, rolling it up to get it out of the way.

"Good morning!" Clint sings as he enters the room. He stops in his tracks when he sees the super soldier, smile falling from his face as he looks him over. "Are you okay there, pal? Is your fever back? Do you need pain killers?"

Bucky shakes his head, wiping the sweat from his face quickly as he readjusts his sitting position.

"I'm fine," he lies, looking away. "I still think I should leave."

"I still think you should stay. Funny how stubborn we both are."

A tray of eggs, bacon, and two pancakes is placed beside the soldier, the orange juice swishing dangerously near the top of the glass as it rests.

"Careful with the cup," Clint warns him lightly. "Huh," he turns to the other man. "I never asked if you had any food allergies. Obviously you haven't had any problems so far, but do you hate anything in particular? I loath Brussel sprouts myself."

"Any food that isn't rotten is fine," Bucky remarks, picking up the plate and fork.

The brunette laughs, "Yeah, I think that way too when on a mission. But this is more like a break, so if you want anything in particular, you let me know."

"How long do you think I'm going to stay here, Clint?" Bucky asks, genuinely curious. Maybe the man was purposely keeping him there for some reason. Maybe back-up was on his way and the other man was stalling. It seemed ridiculous for them to take over twenty-four hours to do it, but he hadn't seen beyond the barn, so maybe they were on the edge of a cliff?

"Stop over-analyzing everything," Clint pats the other man on the knee. "Life's too short to think everyone's out to kill you." He walks to the door and offers a short salute before walking out.

"Life is shorter when you don't," the super soldier mumbles, then shovels some food into his mouth.

By lunch, Bucky feels like himself and is up and walking. His side is stiff but that's the worst of how he feels. Looking outside one of the barn windows, he sees a yellow farmhouse a few yards out. Out another, there's green grass and a small pond. Another shows more green grass and some forest and the last shows a part of the farmhouse again. 

'I'm stuck in the middle of Little House on the Prairie,' he sighs, looking around the inside of the barn. There's a partially repaired tractor and a bench full of tools. As Bucky starts cataloguing the rest of what the barn has to offer, his mind supplies him with all the ways everything he sees can be turned into a weapon.

Clint comes into the barn after Bucky has finishes his third round of the place. He smiles at the standing man.

"Finally up off your butt, I see," the brunette remarks, putting the tray onto a closed tool box instead of the floor. "I got lazy and ordered pizza today. I hope you like junk pie 'cause all the plain was eaten."

"You live here with a family," Bucky tells the man, the information easily deducted from things the man had said before.

Clint hisses with a shrug, "I might be a spy for the good guys but, like I said, I run at the mouth a bit too much."

"Why are you endangering them by keeping me here?" the soldier presses angrily. "Are you insane, Clint?"

"So you do remember me," his host grins. "Took you long enough."

Bucky finally snaps. He grabs hold of a long wrench and throws it at the other man to distract him from his long step to swipe at him with his metal fist. Clint ducks from the projectile, grabs hold of a small sledge hammer, and lifts it to meet the arm in the air. The contact clangs like an irregular drum and Clint grins at the other man.

"So you don't like junk pizza. Got it."

Bucky slides his arm across the hammer, grabbing hold of it at the end to rip it out of the other man's hand. Clint lets the weapon go to purposely fall back two steps to grab a folded black object from a bale of hay. In one snap, a bow is in Clint's arm and he pulls out an arrow from the same bale as the soldier lifts the hammer to him.

"I really, really don't want to put another hole in you right after you're starting to feel better," the archer admits. "Please put that down so we can talk."

"I'm leaving," Bucky tell him, stepping forwards.

"You keep saying that and I keep telling you it's fine," Clint tells him. "So why the sudden hostility?"

"I'm not safe to be around!"

"Only when you get angry, so take a breath and chill."

"Clint! Move!"

"That's MY hammer, so put it down."

Bucky drops the tool and puts the hand to his side as it starts to feel sore.

"Oh, gee, did you pop a stitch?" the archer lowers his bow. "Can I at least look it over before you go? Maybe get you a sandwich and an apple?"

"Stop it," Bucky growls, both hands becoming fists as he glares at the other man.

"Stop what?"

"Stop being...human."

"Uh, sorry, can't. It's what I am."

"Then stop treating me like I'm one!"

"Why not? Are you an alien? From another dimension? Personally, I've met both, so it doesn't bother me."

Bucky walks right up the other man and grabs him by the throat. The brunette lowers his weapon and lets him.

"I could snap your neck and kill you in a second," the super soldier threatens.

"But you won't because it's wrong."

"Why do you think you know me?"

"I don't. But I know a good soldier when I see one."

Bucky's face darkens at the term as his hands move closer around the other man's throat.

"I am no soldier. I'm a monster. A creation of HYDRA to perform one function: kill."

Clint stares into the other man's eyes for a moment before quietly asking, "Did you choose that?"

"What?" Bucky sputters.

"Did you choose to be their Guinea Pig? Did you want to be a weapon?"

"No!" the soldier shouts.

"Then you're not a monster," the other says simply. "You're recovering."

Bucky pushes the impossible man away, one hand running through his hair as flashes of past missions suddenly overwhelm him. He sees the same eyes with a crop of blonde hair. He squeezes his eyes tightly as he remembers pulling a man's body away from danger, leaving it on a roof away from death before running off.

He opens them as the memories calm, his mind on fire as he tries to focus on the other man.

"You...were blonde..."

"Dyed it," Clint nods. "You seem to enjoy keeping the long, scraggly look."

"I saved you?"

"Then I saved you, so we're even."

"Before this time?"

"I don't keep track. What's important is that you are safe here."

"This is a mistake," Bucky says with less conviction than he wanted.

Clint folds his bow again and puts it back on the bale of hay. He holds the arrow with both hands, one finger moving to rub at the tip.

"I've been where you are, Mr. Silence," he says solemnly. He stops rubbing to press his index finger at the tip until it draws blood. The archer watches the drop form on his finger then start to run down it towards his palm. "My mind. My body. I was controlled by someone else and forced to do whatever they wanted."

Clint lowers both hands as he lifts his eyes to the super soldier. "I can waste my time counting the lives I took, or I can do all I can making up for it. It was and wasn't me, and only I can make amends for it."

Bucky doesn't offer up a reply as the archer walks out of the barn. This time, Clint leaves the door open, a silent invitation for the other to leave if he wanted to. Bucky can't find the strength to go.

A week passes and Bucky's wound is fully healed. Clint brings him a clean change of clothes, soap, a towel, toothbrush and paste. Bucky stays in the barn, working on the tractor to pass the time. Clint helps him from time to time when he brings in the meals. Some times they talk, mote times it's just Clint talking. Then while Bucky is half buried under the machine and calling out to the archer for a certain wrench, the barn door opens and a little girl's voice shouts, "Daddy! Mommy is sick!"

Clint drops the wrench and runs for it. Bucky manages to get out from under the machine to see the man's ankle round the door. A little girl, her brunette hair in two braids down to her shoulders, looks towards the soldier curiously.

"Lila!" Clint's voice shouts. "Get in the truck! We're going to the hospital."

The little girl runs off. Bucky walks to the door and watches as Clint tries to help a heavily pregnant woman down the stairs. The woman shouts out, her hand going to her stomach and she has to sit down on the top step.

Bucky's legs move on their own as he runs over to the couple. Clint does a double take to the other man, his brow knit together in worry as he frowns at the man.

"Let me help," the super soldier asks, motioning with his arms. "Please, Clint."

"Honey," the woman moans.

"It's okay, Laura," Clint assures her. He nods to Bucky and the soldier doesn't waste time going to the woman's other side.

Bucky ends up scooping the woman up in his arms and carries her to the truck. Clint opens the side door and worriedly orders the soldier to ease his wife in slowly, carefully, mindful of the stomach.

Bucky makes sure the woman is completely sitting on the front seat before pulling out. Clint ducks in to do a double check, then he pops back out to close the door. A young boy and the girl from before run up to the truck and into the vehicle through the driver's side. Clint turns to the other man, his mouth trying to form words, but he only manages a "Thank you." before running to the driver's seat to take off out of the driveway.

Bucky watches them go, his heart clenching tightly as the dust kicks up from the speed and force of the wheels.

Two days. It takes two days for Clint to return to the farmhouse. Bucky had almost left, had actually stood at the end of the driveway for hours one night, but he couldn't quite get himself to leave. He had to know that everything was alright. He had to make sure that Clint's wife got back home and made it into the house without injury. There were too many stairs for a woman who just gave birth to walk up. He didn't even know how many steps there were INSIDE the house.

So Bucky had waited, drinking water from the hose to stay hydrated but eating nothing.

Then the truck returned mid-morning and four people came out of it.

Bucky schools his expression as three unhappy faces exit the truck. Clint has a bundle in his arms but there's no sign of Laura.

"Clint," the soldier tries to address the other man, but his voice catches when the brunette looks at him. Clint's eyes are swimming in tears and the super soldier knows without being told that Laura had not made it through child birth. He curses violently in Russian as Clint and his two small children walk to their house. The boy opens the door and exchanges looks with his sister before following their father in.

Bucky nearly runs for it then, the temptation as strong as when he first woke up, but once again and unknown force inside him keeps his feet on the ground.

Night falls with a full moon to light up the entire area as if it were daytime. Bucky takes another drink from the hose and turns it off. He stiffens when he hears something outside. Grabbing hold of a shovel, he stealthily makes his way to the door. The noise is coming from the farmhouse porch and it's definitely human. Bucky pauses just inside the door to listen more intently and his eyes dart open when he realizes it's the sound of someone crying.

Dripping the shovel, Bucky walks with purpose, allowing his steps to be loud enough to be heard as he walks to the porch. Clint is on the top step, his head in his hands as he openly weeps; his entire body shaking as he falls apart.

Bucky sits beside the other man silently. He has no words that can heal the other man. He cannot offer comfort. But he can be there in case Clint needs him.

"She's gone," the archer forces out through another sob. "What have I-? She's-! It's my fault!"

A violent shudder wracks Clint's body and instinct has Bucky wrapping his human arm around the other man to hold him steady. Clint turns towards the heat, body trembling as he continues to cry.

Bucky tries to keep his body loose, tries not to hold on too tightly to Clint as his mind uselessly remains blank of what to do.

It's an undiscernible time before the tears soften. the sobs ease, and the shaking calms. Clint breathes through the last of his sorrow before pushing away from Bucky to wipe at his face.

"Sorry," Clint mumbles, motioning to the other man's shirt. "I'll clean that."

"It's...fine..." Bucky assures him awkwardly. He frowns. "I'm sorry for you loss, Clint."

"Yeah," the brunette sighs.

"But it's not your fault."

Clint turns a cold glare to the super soldier.

"What?" he asks, the venom from his tone sending an unpleasant shiver down Bucky's spine.

"You didn't kill your wife, Clint," Bucky repeats. "She died giving birth to the child you made together."

"Exactly," Clint barks. "I chose to have another child and it killed her!"

"You did not force her and she wouldn't want you to blame yourself for what happened."

"What do you know?! You've never met her."

"And I'll forever regret that. But Clint, if she married you then I know she had a good heart. And people with good hearts don't want their loved ones to regret the decisions they made together."

Suddenly, Clint stands, his hands fisting as he stomps down the stairs. He points one accusing finger to the other man.

"YOU, know nothing of my life! I don't regret helping you out, Mr. Silence, but I won't have you preaching to me! This is all my fault! Laura would still be alive if I hadn't asked her for another kid!"

Bucky remains seated on the top step, his voice never rising as he argues, "What good is arguing over something that isn't true? You didn't kill your wife, Clint. If you need someone to blame, blame modern medicine for not advancing enough to save her. Blame human weakness itself. Don't turn your sorrow into hatred. Don't make yourself a monster your children won't recognize. I know living without her will be hard. I live without even the memories of those I love to comfort me. But you can't let that sadness change you. You have to be strong. Grieve, but don't stop being Clint."

The archer stares up at the other man, chest heaving as if he were the one that had just given a passionate speech. He looks away, both hands running through his hair until they rest at the base of his neck.

"I can't do it alone," Clint whispers, almost too low for Bucky to hear.

The soldier gets up then, walks down the stairs and puts a hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Then don't," Bucky says softly. When Clint turns to look at him strangely, he offers him a small smile. "Clint. I vow on my life that I will never harm you or any of your loved ones. I have no place to call home. No country. No loyalties. If you'll allow me, I'd like to stay. To help. You don't have to trust me with anything other than the house work if you want. I don't care."

"But what about your plans to leave?" Clint asks, fear swimming with uncertainty in his eyes. "Since day one, you've been talking about leaving."

"I changed my mind," the super soldier shrugs. "Is that okay, sir?"

The archer shakes his head then rubs at his face. After a deep sigh, he looks back to the other man.

"If you're going to stay, I'll need to know your name."

"Bucky," he tells him as something shifts in his heart. "My name is Bucky."

\--- - --- -- --- - ---

Clint saved Bucky the day he brought him to the barn instead of reporting him to the police. He saved him when they talked of Loki and brainwashing and how screwed up the world really was while the mainstream people were permitted to remain ignorant. He saved him with his soft smile, infectious laugh, ever-present sarcasm, and the tender moments when they didn't say anything at all and merely sat beside each other.

Bucky saved Clint after his wife died. He saved him by supporting him, being there for him, holding him up when all he wanted to do was fall apart. His strong front kept him going when the world turned to chaos around him. He saved him with small genuine smiles, soft eyes, worried frowns, and the way he gave his heart to him to hold.

\--- - --- -- --- - ---

**Author's Note:**

> **I am legally inclined to state I own nothing.**


End file.
